


Indoctrination: The First Palpitation

by ZomBrie



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Other, brief mentions of panic attack, doesn't happen though, rook tries to snipe jacob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 04:38:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19760767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZomBrie/pseuds/ZomBrie
Summary: Your attempt to take Jacob's life backfires on you[Jacob Seed/Gender Neutral Reader (the Junior Deputy)]Warning: brief mentions of a panic attack; pov rule break





	Indoctrination: The First Palpitation

The wood is chipped, fragmented, splintered around a hole about the size of a grape- a hole that wasn’t there just a few seconds ago. _(fast)_ Midday’s sun gleams off of the metal found in the hole _(.50 cal round)_ , and in record time he realizes that a. he never even heard the shot coming _(gun modification; suppressor)_ and b. the bullet landed where his head would’ve been had he not paused. _(sniper)_

Someone just tried to kill Jacob Seed.

Now the man is by no means a fool; he’s the head of the militant flock, of the Project’s security; he’s alpha over the Judges, master of the mountains, herald in the north, and the Father’s most beloved Soldier. Because the oldest Seed has built a blood-soaked reputation from the foundation of ruthless and sadistic cruelty, subscribing to a darwinism philosophy and enforcing it on his men- culling the herd, as it were- he has procured an ever growing list of enemies as long as the Henbane River. So yes, it’s a secret to no one that hundreds of people across Hope County want him dead, hell some of these sheep have hated him so much that they’ve risked their lives trying to end his themselves, but no one… **no one** has ever gotten so close to succeeding.

And this near brush with death makes his heart stutter ever so slightly.

Instead of giving in to the adrenaline, however, he allows himself a single cycle of deep breaths while the liquid cold in his veins relaxes its invasion. If nothing else to bide time until his head clears up enough so he can properly assess the situation.

First the trajectory of the bullet.

Even the weakest of the flock can figure this one out: the propulsion of a gun’s blast fires the bullet in a straight path, especially given the power behind a sniper rifle, so if he looks away from the hole in the compound’s wall…

A rocky incline with smudges of green grass, young patchy spruces, and even sparser brushes across the way; considering that the offending rifle has a silencer modification then the would be assassin is seeking some level of stealth, and in the forests of the Whitetail Mountains this feat can only be supported by wearing the proper garments in the shadows of the trees. Target’s location found.

Now the sniper.

Obviously they must possess at least a modicum of skill with a sniper rifle seeing as how they nearly painted a fraction of the Wolf’s Den with Jacob’s brain matter- would’ve been profitable too had he kept moving.

But not only that there still hasn’t been a follow up shot, something that kind of serves as a signature to those Militia cowards, and he has yet to note any disturbances in the flora on the incline. Trained. It’s not one of his though. The Chosen and the Hunters use poisoned arrows to execute their prey, more likely to suffer a slower death that way.

… He has a hunch, a feeling in his gut that fills him in on this succulent mystery because there’s only been one person in the entirety of Hope County who has been reigning sheer hell down upon the Project...all from the safety of the shadows.

Jacob takes the fastest route to the closest radio so he can test his theory.

____________________________________________________________________________

The Soldier lives.

The Soldier breathes.

The Soldier walks.

_All because you missed your shot._

The sensation of ice pours down the contours of your spine; it drains into your wrists and your hands and it kisses your fingertips until your extremities begin to quake. Because you missed. You can’t seem to fill your lungs deep enough, and the rapid incomplete inhales and exhales robs your brain of the oxygen it needs. You’re light headed because you missed. Eli, Wheaty, Tammy, Jess, every single one of them and more are going to continue to suffer at Jacob’s hands because you fucking missed his fucking skull!

And the absolute worst part of all of this is the fact that somewhere deep down inside your chest you feel a percentage of relief.

The radio at your hip chirps before _his_ voice comes through the static mere seconds later. “Oh deputy, didn’t your academy teach you to shoot to kill? I’ve heard that cops are… rather fond of that.”

A taunt, though not one born from childish immaturity or smug superiority (this isn’t the youngest Seed brother)- he’s aware of your social condition so it’s not as if he expects you to verbally respond/react. It’s likely that he’s seeing if you’ll take the bait.

“I have to admit I am pleasantly surprised, rook.” He says with a rough, chafed cadence not unlike a beast. “See I figured, after our last session, that you’d avoid the mountains like it has the goddamn plague… was certain that _I_ would have to be the one to come after _you_. Yet here we are.”

With little grace and even less reverence the rifle slips from your hands and collapses to the ground near your feet with a dull _thump_. You feel… strange. Heavy. Like you’re standing on the precipice before a storm; something’s brewing, your instincts warns, and the fine hairs all over your body rise with the pebbling of your skin.

“Maybe you are due for more… therapy,” he voice rumbles quietly, “you did just try to kill me after all, though you failed spectacularly. Seems that there’s still some weakness I need to **beat** out of you. But don’t worry, there’s hope for you yet, so stay put..

**_“I’ll come get you.”_ **

It’s foolish.

It is goddamn foolish and you’re going to look back on this moment with such colossal self hatred that it’ll taste like bitter, rotten fruit in your teeth.

But when the feral cry of a drug-addicted wolf reaches your ears from down below, your sense of fight or flight kicks into autopilot and it drives your legs into a burning sprint away from the Wolf’s Den like a bat out of hell.

You proved his theory correct; you took the bait.

**Author's Note:**

> a/u: can't believe i'm getting back into fc5... can't believe i'm fallin for them seed hoes again! this ain't my best work but it was nice focusing on something else other than hellsing. might go back and redo some parts later. also this is titled this way cause i MIGHT do something for the other siblings, dunno for sure yet though. we'll see. if ya liked my work then please give it some kudos and leave a comment! other than that y'all are friggin amazing and i love you


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